~ A site for my creative writing endeavors, writing prompt responses, and experimentation.

Looking for Housing in Brussels

Yes, I actually heard a thud, just like you hear in the old movie reels. So loud it seemed to resonate in my ears, echoing off the walls of the attic room I was evaluating as a possible living space during my impending three-year secondment in Brussels.

On the floor was my guide, his hand to his forehead, his eyes glazed over in partial coherence; clearly concussed.

At my height I rarely worry about low-hanging beams, but he was near two meters easily. Clearly not paying attention he had marched confidently into the center beam of the room, solid and stalwart in its insistence of that space four inches down from the low ceiling. I had walked under it; he found it squarely.

It wasn’t a bad place, really. Tiny in retrospect, but quaint and old-fashioned in a European sort of way. A simple garret with a single window, though grand in size, overlooking one end of the converted attic. Nice enough, and I was considering it, until it took out the man who had been assigned to show me living arrangements. The decision to not take this apartment became clear just as my guide’s vision was doing the same. We would look some more.

In all we looked at a dozen apartments, some impressionably bad…others less obviously insufficient. At one point I decided on one apartment, only to find that it had been rented in the hours I had looked on indecisively. Even the final choice was indecisive. I had agreed to take an apartment in a new building half a block from the main road that led to my company’s office building. It was the only modern building we had seen, and I looked at two or three apartments there. On the second day of looking I asked to go back there and after deciding on an apartment on the fifth floor, had my guide negotiate the deal. An hour later I called him to renege, though just to take a different apartment, this one on the second floor, in the same building.

Even after I returned a month later to take possession (during which the rent was being deducted automatically from my bank account), I realized that I had mixed up the photos I had been taking and somehow the apartment I got wasn’t the one I had pictured. Still, it was roomy, modern, and had a great patio in the back where I intended to host get-togethers with my colleagues. That never happened.

I was also surprised to find that light fixtures do not come with the apartment; I was responsible for buying and installing my own lights. Not just the bulbs – the entire fixtures. All that existed were loose wires hanging from the many ceiling holes. Here again my guide was able to negotiate with the owner to have them installed. They turned out to be the cheapest fixtures they could find, and I spent many hours replacing light bulbs; some lasted as little as a few hours, while others hung on desperately for a few weeks before succumbing to the inevitable.

That wasn’t the end. After a few months I noticed that the wall inside the hall bathroom was getting moldy. After several attempts to have the management company check it out, which they never did, the owner sent over a personal friend of his who discovered that the builder had not properly connected the tub (on the opposite side of the wall) to the pipes, so it was leaking every time it was used. The shower, which was located in a separate room across the hall, was also leaking, which further leaked into the common area stairwell. It was amazing to see such shoddy workmanship. It took more than a year to get everything fixed so it wouldn’t leak.

Despite these nightmarish problems I loved the apartment. I had enough space for my Lincoln book collection, which I had duly shipped over to Brussels with the rest of my furniture. It was about a ¾ mile walk to my office straight down the road. A grocery store and some restaurants were within easy walking distance. A much longer walk got me to the Grand Place, the old town part of Brussels. And on lazy days I could hop the nearby tram to the office or to town.

And yet, whenever I think about the apartment search, I still hear the resonating thud as wood met head, and the thump as body met floor.

A really good opening enticed me into reading what might have been a hohum essay about apartment searching but which wasn’t. This essay could be used as a primer for taking the time to write a killer opening paragraph. Good work. http://judydykstrabrown.com/2015/08/04/fitting-in/

Sounds like Japan… especially some older places. My husband’s found the tops of a couple of shoji-screen and door frames. And my aunt’s place had an unmercifully low beam. Apartments are also usually rented in a likewise stripped condition, including lighting fixtures and air-conditioners. Interesting.

It’s so different from the U.S. The tenants in the townhouse I own practically expect me to rush over to sweep the floors for them. Anything that even breathes slightly awry has to be immediately fixed (out of my pocket). In Europe, you’re mostly on your own. One of many cultural differences I learned quickly after I arrived.

Of course, not as much of an adaptation as suddenly having to drive on the left side of the road when I lived in Edinburgh.

My son lived in Brussels for 3 years as a diplomat to the Swiss Mission in Brussels, but he was lucky with the apartment as it was a sort of permanent place rented by the mission for its workers. I think the main problem he had was with the Belgian way of life. Each question he asked in a shop, or otherwise, was answered with “Je suis désolé Monsieur mais …….” You probably know what I mean. He is now back in Swizerland and life goes on.

It definitely takes some getting used to, especially the fact that they don’t actually care if you’re inconvenienced. “C’est la vie,” as they say. Still, it was a great experience that I’m writing more about.

That will be interesting to read. My son had us in fits of laughter over his experiences with the population at the time, especially when he wanted to buy something in the electronic department of a store. Generally it seems the people do not really care, no problem or excitement, just take your time, if you are lucky the customer will go away.